Conspiracy

Chapter 15

Emperor’s bunions, when had Sespian woken up? Under the train? That must have been a terrifying way to regain consciousness. Had he realized yet who’d been carrying him? In the darkness, perhaps not, but he would soon enough.

Without a word, Sicarius left, sprinting toward the locomotive. The wide-eyed way Sespian watched him go told Amaranthe he had figured out who was carrying him. Sicarius had once admitted that Sespian feared him as a boy, and she couldn’t imagine that adulthood had quite stolen that feeling.

Torn between wanting to check on Yara and reassuring Sespian, Amaranthe blurted a quick, “Good evening, Sire,” then winced. What an inane thing to say at such a moment. But it sounded blase, too, and it pulled Sespian’s gaze back to her. “Welcome to your kidnapping. I imagine you have questions and requests, and I hope to be able to accommodate them shortly, but we have more work to do. Ah, if you don’t mind, wait here. The next two men who pop up will look after you.”

As Amaranthe raced after Sicarius, she realized she’d not only been insulting, by saying Sespian needed looking after, but that she’d presumed to give him, the emperor of the entire Turgonian nation, an order. Maybe she could later claim it’d been a suggestion.

Sicarius had already swung down into the locomotive cab via the left side of the train. Amaranthe headed right.

Envisioning Yara dead on the floor, her throat slit, Amaranthe scrambled around the outside of the car too quickly. She misjudged a ledge in the darkness, and her feet skidded down the slick metal surface. The sudden weight shift yanked at her shoulders, nearly tearing her fingers loose from their grips. For a moment, she hung by one hand, legs dangling above the rails, the wind threatening to rip her from the train altogether. Her breath escaped in a terrified squeak.

Her first reaction was fear-mind-numbing terror-but fury replaced it. She wasn’t going to survive crawling beneath the moving train and pulling the emperor out of a car full of soldiers only to stumble and fall for no reason.

With that thought, she found the strength to fling her arm up where she could reach a handhold again. Once she had solid metal beneath all ten fingers, she hauled herself up, biceps quivering, and pulled her legs back onto the ledge.

After that, it took a monumental effort not to fling herself into cab-and onto its solid, reassuring floor-before checking to see if it was stuffed with soldiers. She forced herself to approach slowly and peer around the corner before revealing herself.

Sicarius stood at the far side of the cab with three downed soldiers piled about him, including the fireman they had tied earlier. He wasn’t tied any more. A fourth soldier stood on the side closest to Amaranthe, his back protected by the engineer’s chair. He gripped Yara, using her as a shield as he held a knife to her throat. A cut lip streamed blood down her chin, and both of her eyes were swelling. She hadn’t given up the engine room without a fight.

Sicarius had been crouched, his black knife in his hand, as if he meant to spring, regardless of the threat to Yara, but he must have seen Amaranthe, for he straightened and lifted an open hand toward the soldier. He said something, though she couldn’t hear the words with the wind whipping at her hair and clothes. An offer to deal perhaps.

His eyes never flickered toward her, and Amaranthe didn’t think the soldier had noticed her yet. His back was mostly toward her. She eyed the arm holding the blade to Yara’s throat.

Amaranthe eased her own knife out. She lunged into the cab, her weapon slashing at the soldier’s arm before her feet hit the floor. It sliced through clothing and flesh, and he cursed, but he didn’t drop his own blade. Without releasing Yara, he stabbed at Amaranthe.

She skittered back, but the blade never came near her. Yara rammed an elbow into the man’s gut at the same time as Sicarius sprang across the cabin. He ripped the soldier away from Yara, and, in one fluid move, fastened his arms about the man’s neck. Under other circumstances, he might have broken that neck, but he merely applied a chokehold. The soldier’s face turned red, then purple, and Amaranthe knew he’d pass out from lack of air shortly.

Basilard appeared in the doorway that Sicarius had vacated. With so many people sprawled about the floor, he didn’t seem to know where to stand.

Yara slipped back into the engineer’s seat.

“Are you all right?” Amaranthe asked. The question earned her a dark glower.

“I hope you pay your men well if you put them through events like this often,” Yara said.

“Not really. I think they stick around to see what crazy scheme I’ll come up with next.” Amaranthe nodded to Basilard. “Did you pass the emperor?”

Basilard signed, Yes. Maldynado banged up his knees and the emperor was helping him into the coal car.

“Uh, I think we’re supposed to be helping the emperor, not the other way around,” Amaranthe said. “We better bring him up here to keep him safe. We’ll have to find some space.” She chewed on her lip and surveyed the packed cab. Sicarius dropped the purple-faced soldier, adding another unconscious man to the pile. “I don’t quite know what to do with all these bodies though.”

“The furnace is getting low on fuel,” Yara said.

Amaranthe threw her a startled look.

“It was a joke.” Yara touched her split lip. “Mostly.”

“The rest of the soldiers will figure out where we went before long,” Amaranthe said. “See if you can slow the train down to twenty miles an hour. At that speed, we ought to be able to drop people outside without killing them, but it won’t be so slow that men can jump off and run up here to attack us from the ground.”

“I haven’t figured out how to adjust speed yet,” Yara said.

Amaranthe looked around. “What happened to the engineer?”

“The soldiers who swarmed me untied him, and he was one of the first to attack your assassin when he burst in. Your man sidestepped and assisted him on his way off the train. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the scream.”

“Ah.” Amaranthe decided not to mention that she’d been busy almost assisting herself off the train at the time. “It’s probably not a good idea to get rid of the people with the knowledge of how to operate the massive piece of machinery you’ve hijacked.”

Sicarius wasn’t around to hear her comment. He’d stepped out of the cab and was standing on the ledge outside, head turned toward the coal car. Checking on the emperor or keeping an eye out for soldiers or both, Amaranthe guessed. Knowing they’d have company soon, she dropped her chin into her hand and considered the meager offerings of the engine cabin.

“Basilard,” she said, “can you try to… I don’t know, stack these men up in the back here, so we have room if we need to fight? I’m going to…” Her gaze snagged on the fire station and the hose hanging there. “That might help.”

Maldynado lunged into the locomotive, making the space even tighter with his bulky form. He shook his head so vehemently, his brown curls flopped about his face. “That was awful. Who’s idea was that?”

Amaranthe handled it without trouble, Basilard signed.

“That’s because she’s little,” Maldynado said. “She’s a woman. They don’t weigh much. I had to hold twice as much weight from my fingers. And squeezing past those axles? While they’re spinning around at a billion revolutions a second? I couldn’t figure out if I was supposed to go under them or over them. I almost lost an important appendage that Lady Buckingcrest would dearly miss, should I show up without it.”

“Where’s the emperor?” Amaranthe asked.

Before Maldynado could answer, Sergeant Yara, who was still sitting in the engineer’s chair, turned around and asked him, “Are you whining again?”

Despite the cramped quarters, Maldynado managed to get an arm around her shoulders. “Of course, my lady. These other blokes are on the quiet side, so one of my duties is being the voice of the group. If I don’t protest the working conditions on everyone’s behalf, how will the boss know which parts of her command need improvement?”

“Did you assign him that duty?” Yara asked Amaranthe.

Amaranthe was busy unraveling the hose and hunting for the controls that would turn it on. No fewer than twenty identical red handles adorned the cab. “Uhm, no,” she said. “I believe he assigned that one to himself. Maldynado, the emperor?”

Maldynado turned sideways. Sespian had slipped into the cab behind him. He stood about six feet tall, with a build similar to Sicarius’s although less muscular, and Maldynado’s height and wide shoulders had blocked the view of him. Amaranthe made eye contact and gave Sespian a reassuring wave. He offered a quick return smile, though it had a strained feel, like that of a man stuck in a grimbal’s den and hoping the massive predator wouldn’t eat him. As far as Sespian knew, Amaranthe and her team might be no better than the enemy he sought to escape.

“What duties did you assign him?” Yara asked. Nobody else seemed to have noticed Sespian yet.

“Maldynado?” Amaranthe asked. “His job is to look pretty and get us good deals from female shop clerks and businesswomen.” She handed Basilard the hose nozzle, then screwed the other end into a spigot next to the furnace. She assumed it attached to the water tank and hoped it had plenty of pressure behind it.

“And to beat things up,” Maldynado said. “Don’t forget that. I like to thump fellers.”

“He seems expendable.” Yara pushed Maldynado’s arm away from her shoulders. “Touching.”

“Men coming,” Sicarius called.

Amaranthe pointed to Basilard. “You spray anyone who gets close. Maldynado, man the tap.” She pushed bodies aside and pulled her crossbow off her back and handed it to Sicarius. “Five quarrels are loaded and there are more in my ammo pouch.” She unclasped it from her utility belt and handed to him. “Aim for limbs, please.” Whether the crossbow would prove less deadly than a rifle, she didn’t know, but being able to shoot five times without reloading was a boon.

“Understood,” Sicarius said.

“Your job is to turn the water on and off?” Yara asked when Maldynado sidled in next to her and placed a hand on the valve. A woman whose face sported so many contusions surely had little reason for mirth, but she seemed to find that amusing.

“For now,” Maldynado said, “but if any soldiers make it in here, I’ll thump them good, and then you’ll be thanking me for the protection.”

“Doubtful.”

“Yara, I need you to figure out how to slow down the train long enough for us to clear out some of this dead weight,” Amaranthe said.

Yara’s smirk faded, and she nodded curtly, as if she’d been given an order from a commanding officer. Amaranthe pulled open a toolbox mounted on the back wall next to the coal chute.

“What’re you going to be doing during all of this, Corporal Lokdon?” came a quiet voice.

Sespian. Amaranthe had almost forgotten about him.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find a dangerous endeavor in which to partake.” Amaranthe rummaged around until she found a crowbar with a hook on the end. She couldn’t tell if it’d be sturdy enough for what she had in mind, but she didn’t see anything more substantial in the box. “Sire, why don’t you come stand next to Maldynado? He can protect you from the fighting, should any soldiers make it in here.”

“Protect me from my own men?” Sespian asked, then touched his neck. “The woman is the only one who-”

A shot fired from the coal car. The bullet clanged off something on the outside of the locomotive and ricocheted into the forest, but Amaranthe grabbed Sespian by the wrist anyway. She steered him away from the door to stand next to Maldynado.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the term friendly fire.” Amaranthe lifted a hand, palm toward Sespian’s chest. “Stay. Sire.”

His eyebrows flew up, which Amaranthe presumed meant people didn’t treat him like a hound very often, but his lips quirked with amusement instead of irritation. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Surrender the emperor, or be shot down,” a cry came from behind them.

“Time for water, Bas?” Maldynado asked.

Basilard held up a fist. Not yet.

Amaranthe wanted to see if her hose idea worked to keep the soldiers back, but it’d be even better if she could slither under the coal car and decouple the rest of the train before her men needed to push back a mass of invaders. Not that she was certain the train could be decoupled while in motion, but she had to try. It’d put an end to this battle much sooner.

With the crowbar in hand, Amaranthe headed for one of the exits. She glanced at a clock on the back wall on the way by. It felt as if hours had passed since they first crept back toward the emperor’s car, but it’d scarcely been twenty minutes. Another two hours until they reached the pass. Her hand tightened on the crowbar. This needed to work.

Outside the exit, Sicarius stood on the ledge, using the body of the train for cover as he fired her crossbow. Amaranthe knelt and peered at the wheels, trying to find a spot where she could wriggle through to crawl back under the train again. Yara hadn’t slowed the train down yet, and the earth and railway ties blurred past at an alarming speed. The idea of going back down there twanged at Amaranthe’s nerves, but she couldn’t walk through the soldiers to get to the coupling between the coal car and the first passenger car. It’d be easier to get to the coupling between the coal car and the locomotive, but her team wouldn’t make it much farther than the engine-less train if they dropped their fuel supply. No, she had to go under and take her chances.

Sicarius leaned out to fire the crossbow. Perched behind him, Amaranthe couldn’t see the quarrel streak away, but someone in the coal car cursed vehemently.

A return volley came, rifle balls clanging off the metal around Sicarius. He flattened himself against the body of the car. The soldiers didn’t seem to be able to get the right angle to hit him.

“Can you cover me, so nobody sees me slip under here?” Amaranthe asked during a pause in the shooting.

He looked back and down, taking in her and the crowbar. Though she hadn’t explained her plan, he figured it out. “No. You stay here with the crossbow. I’ll go.”

While Amaranthe debated whether that was an appealing offer or not, Sicarius shot another two quarrels. She wondered how he could reload the crossbow while hanging from the side of the train.

“Prepare to fire!” someone shouted from the coal car. “Fire!”

Before any guns went off, a stream of garbled curses flowed from the same direction.

“Water?” someone sputtered.

“Look out, it’s-Sergeant!”

Amaranthe allowed herself a bleak smile. Basilard’s hose work ought to add to the distraction.

Sicarius slid down beside Amaranthe, offering the crossbow. The idea of returning fire did sound less fraught, if not less dangerous, than clambering around beneath the moving cars, but she asked, “Is this because you think I’m not strong enough to pull apart the coupling or because you’re worried I’ll mangle myself trying?”

“You’re as proficient with the crossbow as I am, and you make a smaller target for them to shoot at.” Sicarius slipped the crowbar out of her grip and stepped around her, leaving the crossbow and ammo pouch in her hands as he passed.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer my question,” Amaranthe said.

Without glancing back, Sicarius stuffed the crowbar through his belt and climbed on the side of the engine toward a gap between sets of wheels. He rotated his body upside down and angled for the opening, scaling the side as effortlessly as a squirrel scampering down a tree.

Amaranthe almost yelled, “Be careful,” after him as he moved out of sight, but she didn’t want to alert the soldiers that someone was attempting to circumvent them.

A gunshot clanged off metal a few feet from her head, reminding her that she should be paying attention to what the soldiers were doing. She reloaded the crossbow from the relative safety of the doorway before creeping back out onto the ledge. Before she’d gone halfway, the coal car came into view. Several soldiers knelt behind the black hills her team had formed, ducking a thick stream of water shooting from Basilard’s side of the cab. More soldiers filled the balcony of the first passenger car, and more still knelt or stood on the roof behind them, staggered so they could fire at will. Sicarius was going to have a hard time opening that coupling without any of the soldiers on the balcony or the roof spotting him. Maybe it was pusillanimous of her, but she was glad he had volunteered for the task.

Farther back, flames poured out of broken windows and burned on the roof of the emperor’s old car. More soldiers occupied balconies behind it, many leaning out and shouting or simply trying to figure out how to bypass the fiery obstacle.

Men on the roof of the closest car spotted Amaranthe and fired.

She flattened her chest against the body of the cab for cover. The bullets clanged off or flew wide, but the soldiers had another plan to try. One man on the roof leaned out, his rifle in his outside hand while a comrade gripped him by the inside arm. That put Amaranthe in his line of sight. She scooted back, ducking into the cab before his weapon fired.

When she poked her head out again, someone was passing the man another rifle. She squeezed the trigger of her crossbow, and a quarrel sprang free. The wind-or maybe the fact that she was hanging out of a train-affected her aim, and it disappeared into the night. She ducked back in to chamber another round, then played gopher, sticking her head in and out, until she drew the soldier’s fire again. While someone was handing him another loaded weapon, she leaned out and took more careful aim this time. She still missed her target by a couple of inches, but the quarrel caught the outside of the man’s leg. He dropped his rifle. It hit the ground butt first, fired, and bounced into the forest. The soldier clutched at his leg, and his comrades pulled him back before he fell off the roof.

Amaranthe inched forward and shot two more quarrels. They both sank into men’s thighs. She was careful not to aim at vital targets, but she wanted to convince the soldiers that loitering on the roof might not be a good idea. Her next two quarrels dove for the men on the balcony. Sicarius ought to have reached the coupling, and she figured he’d appreciate it if she distracted the people standing over him.

After that, she had to duck back into the cab to reload. Yara must have found the right controls, for the train was slowing. Amaranthe hoped she could control the deceleration, and that they didn’t stop completely. If that happened, all those soldiers could jump to the ground, race up to the locomotive, and swarm her small team by the platoon.

“Charge!” someone in the coal car bellowed.

Amaranthe had only loaded three quarrels, but she rushed back out to the ledge in time to see four men springing to their feet.

They braved the power of the hose to sprint for the locomotive. They ran toward the center instead of to the sides, where Amaranthe and Basilard waited. They must have intended to climb onto the roof and attack from that direction. Basilard’s stream of water struck one man full in the chest with enough power to knock him on his butt. A knife-one of Basilard’s-spun through the air and sank into a second man’s thigh, dropping him with a howl of pain.

Amaranthe lifted her crossbow to shoot at another man, but two soldiers protected by the coal piles fired at her. She should have seen it coming, but she didn’t duck out of the way quickly enough. A burst of pain seared her shoulder.

In her haste to leap back and get out of the soldiers’ sights, her heel slipped over the edge. She dropped and her other knee slamming into the ledge. She caught a handhold with her left hand-barely-but the crossbow slipped from her grip, hitting the ground and disappearing into the darkness.

A soldier jumped around the corner and onto her ledge. Another leaped onto the roof.

Amaranthe grasped the edge of the door with her left hand and yanked herself into the cab. “Help!” she blurted.

Amaranthe stumbled into one of the prisoners and pitched to the floor, landing on the injured shoulder. Agony surged through her, and she couldn’t bite back a cry of pain. Fortunately, Maldynado sprang past her, taking her place at the door. Metal clashed on the ledge outside as blades engaged.

Someone caught Amaranthe beneath the armpits and helped her to her feet. Sespian.

“Thanks, Sire,” she managed through gritted teeth. She took a second to inspect her wound.

Blood saturated her upper shirtsleeve, and the bullet had gouged a hole in flesh as well as clothing, but she didn’t think it had lodged in her shoulder. No excuse for not being able to keep fighting.

With Maldynado on one ledge and Basilard on the other, she didn’t have anywhere to go though. Amaranthe backed up to the furnace, so she could watch both doors. She had a feeling someone would slip in before long. Footsteps on the roof lent credence to that notion. She glanced at the clock. Only ten more minutes had passed. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Yara to slow down the train.

Maldynado was pushed back to the door, and swords clashed within view of the window, his rapier and a soldier’s cutlass. The shorter blade was an ideal weapon for the tight quarters of a train, but Maldynado held his own. His own dueling style, which favored using the point of the weapon instead of the edge, worked in the narrow fighting space. After a long clash of steel where swords struck in such rapid succession that it sounded like one continuous clang, his rapier slipped past the soldier’s defenses and sank into the flesh of the man’s shoulder. The soldier screamed and tried to back away, but he had the same problem Amaranthe had had. His foot slipped off the ledge, and he pitched off the train.

“We still trying not to kill people?” Maldynado shouted into the cab.

“That’s the goal,” Amaranthe said. “Knock them overboard if you have to.”

“Yeah, I’ve already been experimenting with that strategy.”

Maldynado looked up a split second before a set of legs kicked toward him. Without hesitation, he ducked, avoiding a pair of heels that would have taken him in the chest. He popped back up and caught the soldier by the belt. He yanked downward, nearly toppling off balance himself as he hurled the man from the train. Amaranthe rushed forward and caught him by the back of the shirt, stirring a fresh wave of pain in her shoulder.

Maldynado had to leap back onto the ledge to meet the attack of another soldier before he could yell a thank-you.

“Basilard,” Amaranthe called, stepping over prisoners to check on the other side of the cab, “do you still need the water?”

She was afraid they’d run out if they left it on. Without water in the tanks, they could end up stranded in the woods. Or, even more unappealing, the boiler might blow up.

Basilard ducked something and lunged out of view. Amaranthe couldn’t tell if he was still using the hose.

“This isn’t chaotic,” she said. “Not at all.”

“Can I help?” Sespian had picked up one of the prisoner’s swords.

Amaranthe waved the offer away. “No, Sire. That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

His chin came up. “I know you’re only familiar with me as a drugged simpleton with a sketch pad, but I have had some training. I’m not completely inept with a blade.”

“Of course not, Sire. I don’t see how you could be.”

That earned a puzzled head tilt from Sespian, and Amaranthe stifled a wince. She’d have to be careful not to make allusions to his parentage, especially when he didn’t yet know about that parentage.

“I just meant that I’m certain you’re fine with a blade, Sire, but I don’t want you fighting against your own men. We’re doing our best not to ki-permanently maim anyone, but…” Amaranthe shrugged. “I’d rather you not have to do anything that you’d regret later. Unless-” she lifted her eyebrows, “-I don’t suppose you could order them to leave us alone?”

Sespian’s expression grew wry. “If it were that easy, I’d have done so months ago. The soldiers would assume you were applying duress to get me to issue commands.”

“That’s about what I figured.”

“We’re under twenty miles an hour,” Yara said, voice raised to be heard above the pounding of footsteps on the roof and the continuous clamor of weapons outside either door. “If you want to roll some of the luggage out, now would be a good time.”

Luggage? Amaranthe was beginning to suspect the woman of having a sense of humor behind that ever-present flinty scowl.

“You could help me with that, Sire,” Amaranthe said. “It’d behoove us to clear the floor, in case…” She lifted her eyes in the direction of the fighting.

Sespian put aside his sword, and they grabbed the fireman by the armpits and legs to drag him to the door. Amaranthe’s shoulder flared with pain. You’re a minor wound, she told it, one that I’m ignoring. It sent an indignant throb down her arm.

On the way past the furnace, Amaranthe gave it a nod and said, “Yara, can you check on the coal, please?” She wondered if anyone else felt like a juggler with one too many spinning knives in the air.

Amaranthe and Sespian had dropped two men outside as carefully as they could when a volley of gunfire arose from the far end of the coal car. Amaranthe’s heart lurched. Had the soldiers seen Sicarius? She jumped onto the ledge behind Maldynado, barely noticing that he was exchanging sword blows with a man on the roof, and tried to see past him.

The soldiers on the balcony were shouting and waving. And shooting. Several men jumped onto the balcony railing and catapulted off it, grabbing the rear lip of the coal car. It took a second for Amaranthe to realize why. Sicarius had succeeded. He’d decoupled the cars, and the rest of the train was losing momentum and falling behind.

That didn’t mean her team was safe. No fewer than fifteen men were swarming the coal car and pressing against each other for a chance to get to the locomotive. Basilard continued to spray the hose, pounding high-pressure water into men’s chests, but with so many targets, people slipped past. Like the one exchanging blows with Maldynado from the roof. The big man wore the black of one of Sespian’s personal guards, and he had the high ground. Maldynado had to keep one hand gripping the doorjamb, lest he be pushed off the train.

Amaranthe touched the hilt of her short sword, thinking to help, but she wouldn’t be able to reach the man from her spot in the doorway. While she was glancing about for some kind of projectile weapon, she glimpsed a soldier kneeling behind one of the coal piles, taking aim at Maldynado.

Acting on instinct, Amaranthe grabbed a knife sheathed at Maldynado’s waist and hurled it at the man. He saw it coming in time to duck, but it disrupted his shot.

The big bodyguard kicked at Maldynado’s face. Maldynado ducked, but cursed, almost losing his grip on the train.

“I need a gun,” Amaranthe barked to anyone inside the cab who might be listening.

Sespian had retrieved the sword he’d picked up earlier, and he also had a pistol in hand, as if he’d been fearing he might need to use it. Uncertainty flashed across his face, but he extended the firearm toward Amaranthe anyway. He couldn’t feel good about helping his own guards get shot, but she didn’t have time to assuage his fears and promise to aim for non-vital targets.

“Thanks,” she said, already stepping back outside.

The soldier behind the coal hill was taking aim at Maldynado again. Amaranthe leaned out and targeted him with the pistol, making sure to move around enough that he saw her. The fellow ducked again.

Amaranthe switched her aim and whipped off a shot at the bodyguard attacking Maldynado. The bullet caught him in the knee. The man didn’t cry out, but his leg buckled. Maldynado grabbed his arm and yanked him overhead, hurling him to the ground.

Amaranthe winced. Even with the train running at half speed, some of these men were going to be lucky to survive. She was beginning to think they should have chosen another place for trying to get Sespian away from his people. This had turned into a-

“Your assassin is running beside the train,” Yara called out.

Another volley of gunshots came from the coal car, and nobody was shooting at Maldynado this time.

Amaranthe raced to the other side of the cabin, not certain what she could do to help Sicarius but positive she had to try.

At first, she didn’t see anything. Trees towered along the side of the tracks, and though their lower branches had been cut back, the higher ones stretched across the railway, blotting out the night sky. Even in the darkness, Sicarius should have been visible if he were running in the open stretch alongside the tracks.

“Where-” Amaranthe started to ask, but stopped.

A hint of movement amongst the trees, perhaps twenty feet back, caught her eye. More guns fired, bullets chipping at wood as they pounded into the forest. Sicarius must have had to sprint into the woods for cover after unfastening the coupling.

“Can you slow down any more?” Amaranthe asked Yara.

Sicarius leaped over a log, ducked a branch, and wove through the densely placed trunks. Despite the obstacles, he was matching the speed of the train, but Amaranthe feared he wouldn’t be able to veer to the side and catch up. He had to be running at his top speed as it was, and it couldn’t help that people were shooting at him.

“The controls don’t respond quickly,” Yara said. “It must take miles to bring this behemoth to a stop.”

“Do your best,” Amaranthe said.

Two more shots fired, and Sicarius’s blond hair, just visible amongst all the black of the forest, dropped out of sight. When he popped back up, he’d fallen several steps.

“Basilard, Maldynado, keep those men busy!” Amaranthe shouted, though she knew it was pointless. They were already doing the best they could. “Aim for their guns with the water, Basilard. Get their powder wet.” Maybe that would be a more useful order.

She grabbed the edge of the doorway, and leaned out, extending her hand for Sicarius. It was a pointless gesture-it wasn’t as if her sticking her hand out could make him run faster-but she didn’t know what more she could do. She thought about ordering her men to charge into the coal car, but three against fifteen odds would be foolish to take on. At least in their current setup, the soldiers were forced to attack via the narrow ledges leading to the locomotive.

Sicarius’s face turned her way.

“You don’t call that a sprint, do you?” Amaranthe called. “You can do better than that!”

Sicarius glanced toward the coal car, seemed to decide the people shooting at him were as distracted as they were going to get, and he angled out of the trees, sprinting to catch up with the train. On the flat, cleared ground beside the tracks, he could run faster, and his legs were a blur as he raced to gain ground. He caught up with the coal car and was nearing the locomotive where Amaranthe waited, hand still extended, when a soldier ducked beneath Basilard’s hose water and threw himself down at the edge of the car. He dropped his arm over the side, aiming a pistol for the back of Sicarius’s head.

Amaranthe grabbed at the knife on her belt, but knew her throw would come too late. Sicarius must have seen her looking at the sniper, for he whipped a knife over his shoulder. It slammed into the man’s eye. The soldier collapsed, the pistol falling free from his limp hand.

Amaranthe swallowed. There was no doubt as to whether that one would survive.

She glanced over her shoulder, hoping Sespian was somewhere he couldn’t see what was going on outside. She wouldn’t lie to him if he asked how many had been killed, but she’d prefer it if he didn’t have a reason to ask.

Sespian was bent over the furnace, shoveling coal into its belly. He noticed her checking on him and said, “The water tank is below an eighth.”

“We’re cutting off the water, Basilard,” Amaranthe called.

She stepped inside to turn the knob and returned, almost running into a leaping Sicarius as he caught the corner of the door and pulled himself inside. With his momentum, he might have knocked her to the floor, but he caught her about the waist and kept her upright, despite the jostle. Sweat streamed down his face, blood stained his short hair, and rips and holes gouged his shirt. She had a feeling she wouldn’t have survived if she’d taken the decoupling job.

“Welcome back.” Amaranthe might have hugged Sicarius had there not been witnesses around.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “We will discuss what I call a sprint the next time the group trains.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’ll be a fun day.”

Sicarius’s gaze shifted, and he met Sespian’s eyes over Amaranthe’s shoulder. He released her and stepped away.

Still poised before the furnace, Sespian stood straight, his fingers tight about the haft of the shovel. He looked like he was thinking of swinging it at Sicarius’s head. Something between fear and hatred hardened his eyes. Sicarius returned the stare without any of the same rancor, at least not in Amaranthe’s opinion, but many people found that unwavering gaze of his as icy as a glacier.

“Return to full speed?” Yara asked.

“Not yet,” Amaranthe said.

A gunshot fired in the coal car. They still had work to do.

“We need to help Maldynado and Basilard knock the rest of those men off our train.” Amaranthe pulled out her short sword, wincing as the motion drew a new surge of pain from the bullet wound in her shoulder, and tried to step past Sicarius.

He caught her by the arm. “You are injured.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Stay here.” Sicarius jumped out the door, bypassing Basilard by pulling himself straight up onto the roof.

“I give the orders around here, remember?” Amaranthe called after him. As expected, no answers floated down from above. “Difficult man.”

Considering Sicarius appeared much more injured than she did, she didn’t want to hang back and force him and the others to handle the fighting. After checking to make sure Yara and Sespian were fine, Amaranthe climbed outside again.

Sicarius had already cleared the roof. He leaped into the coal bed where Basilard and Maldynado joined him. Already they were advancing as a team, forcing their opponents back. In the confines of the coal bed, the soldiers couldn’t circle around her men to attack from the sides. They had to face the formidable swords and daggers face-on, and their numbers did little to help.

Not sure if she’d do anything except get in the way, Amaranthe waited in the corner, ready to help if someone faltered. But they didn’t. She rarely had a chance to watch the team at work, and admitted to a feeling of pride at the way they attacked as one unit, as if they’d choreographed their movements. Their opponents were forced back and soon ran out of room. Once the numbers were even, Amaranthe expected the soldiers to jump off the train of their own accord, but if anything they fought more tenaciously than ever at the end. True to her wishes, her men did their best not to kill anyone, and the last soldier sailed over the side of the car with nothing but bruises.

When only Maldynado, Sicarius, and Basilard remained standing, Amaranthe sheathed her sword.

“Well done.” She gave Sicarius a sheepish look. “I guess you were right and that you didn’t need me.”

“Of course we did,” Maldynado said. “Someone has to witness our glorious battles in order to relay our deeds to others.” He leaned to the side, eyes toward the locomotive cab. “Yara didn’t come out, eh? I thought she might enjoy seeing me do something more impressive than turning water on and off.”

“She’s with the emperor, and they’re busy keeping the train moving,” Amaranthe said. She remembered her idea about getting Sespian to develop an interest in Yara. It wasn’t the best time to worry about such things, but she couldn’t help but hope they were up there, talking and bonding.

“I’ll see if they need a hand,” Maldynado said.

Amaranthe was tempted to tell him to leave Sespian and Yara alone for a while longer, but he was already climbing past her, heading for the cabin. Basilard came up to her and pointed to her shoulder. It was too dark to read his hand signs, but she assumed he was asking after her health.

“It’s fine, thanks. Do you have any injuries?”

Basilard hesitated, then shook his head. Amaranthe took that for a yes, but not severe.

“We have two hours left before we reach the pass,” she said. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

Basilard pointed at the back of the locomotive.

“Hold on.” Amaranthe hunted about, looking for the lantern one of the men had brought out earlier. “Let me find some light, so I can see what you’re saying.”

Sicarius found the lantern first. He lit it and handed to her.

“Thank you,” Amaranthe said, but almost forgot about Basilard when she saw Sicarius under the light.

Whatever head wound he taken in the woods had bled copiously. Crimson smeared the side of his face and stained his blond hair. If he was bleeding elsewhere, his black clothing hid it, but the number of tears and holes made her uneasy.

Amaranthe caught herself before her hand strayed up to touch his cheek. She cleared her throat instead. “Thanks for…” Getting shot up on behalf of the team? Or protecting her from suffering a worse fate? Surely she couldn’t have run that fast to catch up with the train if she’d had to jump away to avoid gun-slinging soldiers. “Thanks for your help,” she said. That was ridiculously inadequate, but he inclined his head once.

Amaranthe held up the lantern and nodded for Basilard to sign whatever he’d been wondering. The light revealed a number of new gashes amongst the scars on his face, head, and hands as well. One of his sleeves had been torn down to his wrist, and blood ran down his arm. An embarrassed flush ran through Amaranthe because she had been quicker to thank Sicarius for his help-and to show concern over his injuries. Basilard had far less reason to be here, risking himself for this cause.

She gripped his uninjured arm. “Thank you as well, Basilard.”

He nodded solemnly, then signed, Will there be time for me to speak to the emperor on behalf of my people?

Yes, Amaranthe had to remember that Basilard had a reason for being here as well. She had best try to accommodate that if she wanted to keep him happy as a team member. Sometimes, she admitted ruefully, it’d be easier if everyone had joined up for the pay.

“You’ve already told him of the slavery and how your people are targeted, right?” Amaranthe asked.

Briefly.

“So, he knows. If I were you, I’d just try to talk to him while we’re doing… whatever it is he wants us to do for him. I can translate for you, of course, or Maldynado can.”

Basilard’s eyebrows twitched at that, and she recalled that Maldynado had chosen a dubious pseudonym for him when Basilard had signed up for the Imperial Games.

“Books, then,” Amaranthe said. “We should be back with him and Akstyr soon, and I’m sure he would translate for you. You might try teaching the emperor a few of your signs. He seems the curious, inquisitive sort.”

Basilard scratched his chin thoughtfully, then nodded and signed, Thank you. He headed for the locomotive, leaving Amaranthe alone with Sicarius.

Sometime during all the activity, the train had started climbing into the mountains. She wished there were some way to tell Books and Akstyr they didn’t need to cause a landslide, but the deed had probably already been done.

Sicarius was collecting his throwing knives and approached the man he’d dropped when he’d been sprinting alongside the train. The dead soldier lay at the edge of the coal car, his arm dangling over the lip. Amaranthe couldn’t chastise Sicarius for defending himself, not when the man had been about to shoot him in the back of the head, but the body was blatant proof that her plan hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped it would. It upset her that this soldier had died trying to protect Sespian.

Sicarius lifted the man by the hair and pulled his throwing knife free. Amaranthe winced. She wondered if he ever felt any remorse for those he killed. Perhaps not.

“Shall we leave him here or…?” Amaranthe waved to the forest. Tossing the body overboard sounded callous, even if they’d given the living soldiers the same treatment.

“Leave it.”

Amaranthe closed her eyes and sent a silent apology to the man’s spirit and to any family he might have. Small solace.

“Sespian will find out that some of his men died regardless,” Sicarius said.

“I know. I wasn’t planning to lie to him, but statistics tend to be easier to stomach than corpses.” Especially when the knife-in-the-eye wound would tell Sespian exactly who had been responsible. The last thing Amaranthe wanted was for Sicarius to get the blame for her failures out here. “We better head in and talk to him, find out what he wants us to do now that he’s free of Forge’s influence. Am I right in assuming his female chaperone is dead?”

“Yes,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe stepped toward the locomotive, but Sicarius rested a hand on her uninjured arm.

“We need to arrange time to speak with him alone.”

She nodded. That was part of the plan, although… “When you say we do you mean you and he or you, he, and me?”

Sicarius hesitated. “I do not believe he would listen to anything I had to say.”

“So, Books is translating for Basilard, and I’m translating for you?”

“He will listen to you.”

Maybe not after she told Sespian about the dead soldiers, Amaranthe thought, but what she said was, “And, should we find this time alone, do you want me to tell him everything?”

“You don’t know everything.”

Not surprising. “Do you want me to tell him everything I do know?”

Sicarius gazed toward the forest. He was still holding Amaranthe’s arm, and she rested her hand on his, trying to offer reassurance, if he needed it. One never knew with him.

“What do you think would be an appropriate course of action to ensure an optimal result?” he finally asked.

Amaranthe didn’t know if he had ever asked for her opinion on anything before. Given the occasion, she wished she had a better answer for him. “I don’t think you can ensure anything when it comes to people. I’m sure you find it odd, but most of us react based on feelings, not pragmatism. Rational hypothesizing can’t necessarily predict the outcome.”

His gaze shifted from the trees to her eyes. “People are impractical.”

“Of that I have no doubt. I’ll give you the same recommendation I offered Basilard. Spend some time with him. Let him get to know you as a person, not as the scary assassin who stalked the Imperial Barracks all through his childhood.”

“That is the person I am.”

“You’re more than that. Be yourself, but try to be… friendly. Talk about small, unimportant things. Ask him how he’s doing. Make a joke.”

“A joke.”

“You’ve done it before,” Amaranthe said. “Your sense of humor is dryer than the desert city-states, but it does exist.”

He stared at her as if she’d told him he had fur and horns.

“Also, smile after you make your joke. To let him know that’s what it was.” Amaranthe gave him a zealous smile to demonstrate. “As for what you should tell him… if he believes you, he might abdicate. He seems to be an honorable man, and he might feel he doesn’t have a right to the throne given that particular piece of information.”

“He would be safer that way,” Sicarius said. “I should have told him long ago.”

A lump of emotion tightened Amaranthe’s throat. A lot of people in Turgonia, when given the chance to have a son rule over the entire empire, would lust for the position it would earn the family without worrying about whether or not it was good for the child.

“Do you want me to tell him then?” she asked.

“No. I will do that. You tell him… that he has nothing to fear from me.” Sicarius released her arm.

Amaranthe squeezed his hand before letting go of it. “I will.”